I’m getting ready to go on our annual family vacation. Usually the travel preparations along with trying to make sure everything at work is in order make me certifiable. Usually I practice pack two weeks before (which is exactly what it sounds like) and then for-real pack 2 days before and then check my packing the night before.
I haven’t even started packing and I leave in 48 hours. (Make that more like 30 since a whole bunch of time passed since I started this post.) I still need to buy shorts and maybe a pair of shoes. I have to do a lot of non-negotiable pre-trip things. I’m not freaked out.
What’s freaking me out is that I’m going to miss my first week of Yeah Write since I started participating 17 weeks ago. I’m still not entirely convinced that I have to miss it though, because there’s got to be some way I can sneak off into the bathroom or something and write without my family feeling like I flaked out on our special alone-together-family time. It’s too bad that I’ll probably be unjetlagged by the time it opens on Monday since I plan to have free time between 3 and 6 AM Pacific for a few days like I’ve had the last 2 years we made this trip.
But all this leads me to another thought. My writing has been a bit off in these last few weeks. Don’t get me wrong, I’m very proud of my last few posts and I intend to incorporate both into my memoir that I’m working on. That said, my blog was not supposed to be a wow-that-girl-is-pretty-sad blog. Honestly I’m not that sad and I need to write some stuff that’s not tragic nostalgia before BlogHer so that I’m not recognized as that blogger who brought you down. Of course, this assumes I’m being recognized which is an entirely different matter.
I don’t do happy so well. When I’m happy, I’m stuck in the moment, savoring it and enjoying it. And then when it’s over, I don’t know what to say. I find it really odd that I seem to have little trouble communicating difficult topics but I can’t write a happy post without feeling like a ridiculous sap. Mostly being happy makes me want to cry. When I think of my family and friends, the people that I love the most, I can get choked up almost instantaneously. The rest of the nonsense that should make me cry doesn’t usually have that impact on me. I’m good at compartmentalizing, I guess.
So, it’s 11pm and I should be asleep by now. Tomorrow will be absurdly busy with the aforementioned non-negotiables. On my trip I’m hoping to spend some time contemplating the finer things in life, like fried apple sticks dipped in whipped cream at Legoland and heated salt-water pools.
Maybe I’ll figure out how to write about them.
Maybe you’ll hear from me over the next week or so, maybe you won’t. It’s unclear at this time. But hang around, please, because I’m coming back. I promise.